Renegade Magic

by Burgis, Stephanie

  So I lifted my chin and set my jaw to keep it from trembling. I looked straight into Lord Ravenscroft’s magnified eye through his fashionable, expensive quizzing glass, and I hoped that it would happen fast. I prayed I wouldn’t disgrace myself by screaming or crying if it hurt.

  Mr. Gregson said, “I should like to do it myself, my lord. And if I might beg one favor? I would appreciate the opportunity to do it alone. You know that she, as well as her mother, was my student. I would like to give her one final gift of privacy while the procedure takes place.”

  “Very well.” Lord Ravenscroft shrugged. “But don’t let her soften you with one of her stories. And remember—the kindest way to do it is with speed. I’ll want to see evidence of the procedure, afterward.”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  I was breathing quickly now, in short, shallow pants. I could have hugged Mr. Gregson for his request—now, even if I did scream, at least Lord Ravenscroft wouldn’t hear it, and Lady Fotherington would never know. But every passing moment made the truth of what was about to happen more and more real.

  I would never do magic again. No, worse: I might never even recognize Angeline again—or Elissa, or Papa, or foolish, feckless Charles, who could be talked into anything, or even Stepmama. …

  Lord Ravenscroft gave Mr. Gregson one last stern look through his quizzing glass, and vanished.

  The constriction around my throat disappeared with him. I took a deep, ragged breath that held a shameful hint of tears.

  “Katherine,” Mr. Gregson began.

  My buried words came tumbling out, the most important first. “You have to help Lucy! I won’t be able to tell you this afterward, so you have to listen to me now. When she went into the King’s Bath, she became Sulis Minerva—or Sulis Minerva became her.”

  He sighed. “First of all, there is no such thing as the goddess Sulis Minerva—”

  “There was in the bath today! She was cursing all the people she’d been asked to curse last night, and sending out magical favors—you can ask anyone, there were plenty of witnesses. Half of Bath must have been watching from the Pump Room windows, as well as all the people in the bath itself, like horrible Viscount Scarwood, and …” Dash it. I felt tears building up in my throat again. I forced them back in a deeper breath. “I won’t be able to help her myself after this, so you have to—”

  “Katherine.” Mr. Gregson put one hand on my shoulder. “There is something you must do, which is to listen to me before you say any more.”

  All I’d done for the last ten minutes was listen, while they’d decided my whole future for me. But if I tried to say that, I would have really begun to cry with rage and frustration. So I only nodded, slammed my jaws together to hold back anything else, and met his worried gaze as fiercely as I could.

  “Katherine, I am not going to pacify you.”

  My jaw dropped open. “You’re not?” It was such a shock, I felt dizzy. I had to reach out my hands to my sides for balance. “But—”

  “I believe Lord Ravenscroft is mistaken in you.”

  “But you—but you said—”

  “When his lordship makes up his mind, it is not easy to change,” said Mr. Gregson. “And he does not take well to insolence from anyone, as you have learned to your peril. Had I openly disagreed with him, he would have performed the procedure himself, and the matter would have been finished. However, if I can present him with proof of the real malefactor’s identity, I am certain he will be open to reason.”

  “Oh. Oh!” I let out my breath in a rush. “You did believe me, after all.”

  “I believe that the rites of Minerva were conducted by Oxford students, and I believe the conversation you overheard.” Mr. Gregson gave me a stern look. “But I also believe there is more to it than you have yet told me. You recognized at least one of those students last night, didn’t you?”

  I swallowed, trapped in his gaze. “I …” No. I couldn’t do it. “I can’t tell you who it was,” I said, “but I can tell you that he didn’t mean any harm. He was only talked into it—he thought it was only a game, I could tell.”

  “I see.” Mr. Gregson gazed at me. “And you would rather stay silent at such a dangerous moment—even under the very real threat of pacification—than reveal to me who this misguided young man might have been?”

  I winced, but held firm. “Yes.”

  “Excellent,” Mr. Gregson said. “Then I may safely assume that it was your brother.”

  “No!” I lurched backward. “I didn’t say that! I mean, it wasn’t! I mean—”

  “Enough, Katherine.” Mr. Gregson waved his hand in a gesture of appeasement. “I am not about to blame young Charles for being tricked into participation, but this does provide us with an excellent set of clues. For one thing, you can ask him for the details of how he came to be there, and exactly who persuaded him into it.”

  “Ah … yes, I could do that.” I looked at him nervously. “But the thing is, I don’t think Charles tends to ask too many questions when his friends suggest idiotic schemes. And he has this stupid idea about gentlemanly honor, so even if he did know—”

  “I’m sure you’ll persuade him somehow,” said Mr. Gregson. “And even if not, this tells us something else quite important. At least one of the young men last night was a witch.”

  “I beg your pardon?” I snorted, finally beginning to relax. “Charles is not—”

  “I didn’t say a practicing witch. But he is your mother’s child, just as you and your sisters are, and he certainly will have inherited at least as much natural talent for witchcraft.”

  “Well, yes,” I said, “but you don’t know Charles. He’s never cast a spell in his life!”

  “That is probably just as well for the rest of Society. If one thinks of how much chaos the various witches and Guardians in your family have caused already …”

  I scowled at him, but he wasn’t paying attention. His face was drawn into a frown. “It would certainly be interesting,” he said, “to know how many of the other young men last night came from witch-bearing families. It would be even more interesting to know whether that was why they were chosen … but at any rate.” He shook himself, and looked back at me. “We cannot waste any more time in empty speculation. You must leave the Golden Hall, and I must devise a strategy to prove your innocence before Lord Ravenscroft can discover our deception.”

  I glanced nervously around the empty hall. If Lord Ravenscroft or Lady Fotherington appeared now … “There’s only one problem,” I said. “If Lucy and I go back to where my portal is, we’ll land in the middle of the King’s Bath.”

  “I see. Fortunately, I should be able to manage that.” Mr. Gregson knelt down beside Lucy and took hold of one limp arm. “Katherine?”

  Following his nod, I knelt down on Lucy’s other side and took her other arm. “But I told you—”

  The world turned inside out around us. “And I told you,” Mr. Gregson said, brushing himself off, “that I would take care of it.”

  We were in a room I’d never seen before—but of a type I recognized immediately: a gentleman scholar’s study. It wasn’t as messy or as crowded as Papa’s study back home, but leather-bound books filled all the shelves and lay piled in neat stacks upon the desk, along with assorted papers covered with neatly lined up equations. Through the window, I could see the familiar spire of Bath Abbey rising above golden-stone buildings, and the forested hills beyond.

  “I didn’t realize you lived in Bath,” I said, as I knelt down to shift Lucy into a more comfortable position.

  He looked surprised. “Indeed, I do not. I only arrived here a week ago, as part of our investigation.”

  I looked up at the abundance of books and papers, which looked like at least a year’s accumulation, and thought, Just like Papa. At least it was a comfortingly familiar sight.

  “So this is where you were when Lord Ravenscroft summoned you?”

  “No, it is not.” Mr. Gregson walked to the window and drew the t
hin curtains against the sunlight, shielding us from public view. “In fact, I had only just entered the Pump Room, but I thought it would be far too remarkable an occurrence for the three of us to appear there now, with so many people there to witness our arrival … particularly as so many of the gossips there will have seen your magical activities in the King’s Bath. Here, we should remain safely unobserved, if we are careful about your departure from my rooms.”

  Seeing my confused look, he tapped his spectacles—his own portal to the Golden Hall, just as Mama’s mirror was mine. They glinted even in the darkness of the shrouded room. “Fully trained Guardians can use their portals for transportation across great distances, as well as simple back-and-forth movements, and they can take their portals with them. You would have learned this skill in time, Katherine, along with greater control of all your powers.”

  “Yes.” I sighed as I rose. No time for regrets. “But now we have to get Lucy safely home, and then I have to go back to the Baths—”

  “On the contrary!” He drew himself up. “My dear Katherine, if you have any sense left in you, you will stay well away from the Baths. After today’s incident, every Guardian in Bath will be keeping a close eye on them.”

  “Yes, I know, but I told you—Mama’s mirror is at the bottom of the King’s Bath! Since Lord Ravenscroft closed the portal, it won’t come back to me on its own. I have to go get it myself.”

  “Ah. Yes.” He coughed. “I was afraid we might come to this. I’m sorry to say you won’t be taking back your mother’s mirror today.”

  “I beg your pardon?” I was too surprised to be outraged. “Don’t be absurd. I can’t just leave it there.”

  “You heard Lord Ravenscroft,” Mr. Gregson said. “He expects me to provide evidence of your pacification. There is no evidence I could give him that could be so persuasive as your own portal, inherited from your mother.”

  “You must be joking,” I said. “I would never let you—”

  “Exactly.” He nodded. “Can’t you see? Lady Fotherington knows that as well as I do. She can verify to Lord Ravenscroft that you would never give up the mirror of your own accord.”

  “Well, Lady Fotherington can go—”

  I cut myself off by biting my lip hard. But I could just see them, Lord Ravenscroft and Lady Fotherington, turning over Mama’s mirror in their hands and laughing. Lady Fotherington had wanted Mama to be pacified for her illicit witchcraft; now she would think she had gotten her way at last. Like mother, like daughter, she would say, yet again, and she would smile. …

  I tasted blood where my teeth had bitten into my lip. I swung away from Mr. Gregson.

  “Fine,” I said, and focused on the rows of books on their shelves, all neatly lined and ordered. “Fine. But I’m having it back when this is over.”

  “Well—”

  “I am,” I said, and turned to look him in the eyes.

  He sighed, and drew his handkerchief from his pocket. “I will do my best to get it back for you,” he said. “But in the meantime, I must urge you to exercise the strongest caution. Not only is Lord Ravenscroft himself in Bath, but Lady Fotherington is due to arrive today as well. Both of them will be alert to any sign that the pacification has not been completed. Even the merest hint of magic with your signature scent, whether Guardian or witchcraft …”

  I closed my eyes against the pity in his face. “I understand,” I said.

  And I did. For all the powers that Mama had left me, there was nothing I could do with them now, even to prove my own innocence.

  Twenty

  Lucy still hadn’t stirred by the time we left Mr. Gregson’s rooms, but he was maddeningly unconcerned.

  “She has undergone a series of considerable physical shocks,” he explained, as we each draped one of her arms over our shoulders. “Between the wild magic’s possession of her body, and the intense shock of transplantation away from the source of that magic, it wouldn’t be surprising if she sleeps for a full day now, or even longer.”

  “Mm,” I said, and thought of Mrs. Wingate waiting for us at home. “That might be for the best, actually.” Surely with a day or two to prepare, I could come up with some credible story to excuse Lucy’s public magical display … couldn’t I?

  “I would keep Miss Wingate well away from the Baths for the foreseeable future,” Mr. Gregson added, puffing slightly, as we maneuvered her down the narrow winding staircase.

  “That”—I was panting too, as we came to a halt before the front door to look out the window—“I had already guessed.”

  A stream of chattering passersby filled the street outside—not as many as roamed the fashionable Circus area, but more than enough to be scandalized by the sight of two girls emerging from a private residence with only a gentleman for escort.

  I looked at Mr. Gregson across Lucy’s lolling head. “Are you certain we can’t just transport ourselves across town using your portal?”

  “Unfortunately, that would be far too dangerous,” he said. “For all we know, Miss Wingate’s mother or sister may be waiting for her in her bedroom. And if anyone saw us arrive through such blatantly magical means …”

  He sighed, looking out the window at the busy crowd. “No,” he said, “these circumstances, like last night’s, are neither discreet nor urgent enough to warrant magical transportation. But I’m afraid the safer method may not be quite so easy this morning as it was last night.”

  He was right. But even as we negotiated the busy streets—both Lucy and I remaining invisible while Mr. Gregson tipped his hat to various acquaintances—my mind was already worrying at the larger task ahead. The ladies and gentlemen promenading past us on the pavements as we neared Lucy’s house in the Circus were all overflowing with gossip … and all of it came straight from the Baths.

  “… Flashing lights everywhere, the entire bath was glowing, and the wicked girl herself …”

  “… Casting spells in broad daylight. The shamelessness of it! The whole family will be ruined, of course. …”

  “… Witchcraft in Bath, of all places! And a well-respected family, too—until now, of course …”

  “… Ruined, my dear, positively ruined, all of them, and quite rightly, too. …”

  I wasn’t surprised to see all the curtains at the Wingates’ house as tightly drawn as if there had been a death in the family. It was a clear message to anyone who cared to observe it: The Wingates were not at home to visitors. That hadn’t stopped a crowd of gossips from congregating around their front gates, all quivering with excitement over the scandal and darting hopeful looks up at the curtained windows.

  Mr. Gregson’s pointed cough cleared a space for the three of us to pass. He rapped sharply on the door.

  “This,” he whispered, “will be the tricky bit. But if we take some care …”

  The butler opened the door, looking even more forbidding than usual.

  “Aloysius Gregson,” Mr. Gregson said before the butler could speak. “Mrs. Wingate sent for me to attend her?”

  “I beg your pardon?” The butler stepped back, frowning. “I’m sorry, sir, but I wasn’t informed of any such request. The family is not at home to visitors.”

  “Perhaps you would care to send up my card? There may have been some mistake. Of course, I shouldn’t like to intrude, but her message was quite specific. I really wouldn’t like to disappoint her, today of all days. …”

  The butler looked positively ill at the thought. “No, sir. No, indeed. If you would please wait here?”

  Mr. Gregson sidestepped in, and I pushed Lucy in after him. I nipped inside myself just in time for the butler to close the door. He almost stepped into me as he turned back. I hopped backward to avoid him, and hit the wall with an audible thud.

  He blinked, shook his head, and accepted the calling card Mr. Gregson was holding out to him. “If you’ll excuse me, sir …”

  He moved up the marble stairs at a stately pace. When he opened the sitting room door, I winced; I could hear Mrs.
Wingate in full throttle.

  “If I have ever once regretted a generous nature—yes, Palmer, what is it this time? I said we were not to be disturbed!”

  “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Wingate. …”

  The door to the sitting room closed, shutting off the sound of their voices. I let out a sigh of relief and massaged my aching head. It really hadn’t needed that extra bump.

  “Now,” said Mr. Gregson, and the magic-working around us vanished. “If I were you, Katherine, I would move at some speed. But in the meantime, please remember …” He bent a stern gaze upon me. “Stay well away from the Baths, no matter what the temptation, and do not under any circumstances—”

  “Work any magic. I know, I know! I promise.” I rolled my eyes as I started toward the staircase, hauling Lucy with me. “I’m not entirely a fool,” I muttered.

  Then I remembered everything he’d done for me that morning, and I turned back. “Thank you,” I added. “For trusting me.”

  He nodded, his expression grave. “I do,” he said. “Don’t make me regret it. Now, hurry!”

  But I was only partway up the staircase when the sitting room door opened again. The butler emerged, looking flushed and uncomfortable under his powdered wig. Mrs. Wingate must not have been pleased by his message.

  “I beg your pardon, sir,” he said as the door closed behind him, “but there seems to have been some—oh!” He paused, one foot still hovering above the top step of the staircase. “Miss Katherine Stephenson. And Miss Lucy!” His gaze flicked straight to the sitting room door. He started to turn back.

  It was time to change my strategy. “Oh, help!” I said, and stumbled artistically, as if Lucy’s weight were dragging me down. “She’s so ill, and I can’t—oh!” I clutched the banister for support.

  “Oh, dear. Yes. Yes, I see.” He hurried down the steps to take Lucy’s other arm. “Mr. Gregson, I am afraid—”

  “Never mind,” said Mr. Gregson. “I clearly misunderstood the message. Please convey my deepest apologies to Mrs. Wingate for having disturbed her. I’ll see myself out.” He tipped his hat. “Miss Stephenson, Miss Wingate …” He stepped outside, closing the door quietly behind him.